


Odessen Files

by Cinlat



Series: Meet Me On The Battlefield [6]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:09:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 13,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: A collection of oneshots that didn't make it into Heart on a Trigger, but needed to be told. Timeline set in the Knights of the Fallen Empire timeline and beyond. Including pairings challenges, micro-fics, and regular drabbles. Ratings will vary and be posted at the beginning of each chapter, along with any trigger warnings. There is not a fluid timeline.





	1. Forced R&R (Vector/Zolah/Theron)

Summary: The life of a spy isn’t for the faint of heart. The hours are long, and the benefits in short supply. Sometimes, it takes an act of sabotage to get a day off.

This was for a prompt on Tumblr by the lovely Tishinada for the affectionate moment's challenge. She chose: **Accidentally Sleeping In for Zolah/Vector/Theron.**

**Rating:** T  
**Word Count:** 718

* * *

Theron jerked awake when a weight smashed him in the mouth. He grunted and ran his tongue over his teeth to test for blood. Peeking one eye open, Theron took in the light blue wrist that laid across his face.

Zolah had a tendency to sleep everywhere. Her nocturnal antics had forced Theron from his bed more than once. During those nights, he’d slipped from their room to sneak into Vector’s. It had happened so often that the Joiner kept a spare pillow for him now. At first, it had been awkward sliding into the other man’s bed, but Vector simply chuckled his understanding and moved over.

Removing Zolah’s arm from Theron’s body proved to be difficult. No sooner than he placed it by her side, then the Chiss flung it back into his face. Theron sighed, considered his options, then ran his tongue along the inside of her wrist. Zolah hissed, snatching her arm away to rub it against Theron’s chest.

“Damn it,” Zolah growled. “I hate when you do that.”

Theron yawned, then tucked one arm behind his head. “I use the weapons available to me.”

Zolah rolled over with a huff, and Theron stretched. His elbow bumped something warm, and he glanced to the right to find Vector blinking sleepily at him. It took a moment for Theron’s mind to clear long enough to register the oddity of the Joiner in the same bed as he and Zolah.

“Morning?” Theron said stupidly.

Vector yawned, covering his mouth with long, manicured fingers, before blinking again. “It would seem so.”

Theron searched for the memories of the night before. This was the first time that all three had woken in the same bed, and now that he was more alert, it was a bit tighter than previously estimated. Not that Theron minded, per se, which was just...weird. “Um, I’m a little fuzzy on the details.” Theron was almost certain that he was dressed. At least wearing a pair of boxers, for sure.

Vector rolled gracefully onto his back and yawned again. The Joiner’s brows furrowed at the ceiling while he clicked his tongue. Theron realized his own felt like sandpaper, a tell-tale sign that he’d drank way too much the night before. “We,” Vector paused, then lifted the blanket to check his own state of dress. Theron purposefully didn’t look. Lowering the fabric without comment, Vector continued. “We are unsure, apart from the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol.”

“Would you two shut up,” Zolah growled again. Both men angeled to stare at her bare back, then glanced at one another again.

Theron looked at the chrono to find a blank display, and panic stabbed through him. “Kriff, what time is it?”

Vector leaned over the edge of the bed to fish for his handheld. “1000, apparently.”

Theron scrambled away from the warmth of Zolah and Vector’s combined body heat with a curse. He regretted it the moment his bare feet touched the stone floor. “Why didn’t the alarm wake us?” He rushed around the room, gathering clothes for the day and preparing items for a shower.

Meanwhile, Vector crouched by the bedside table in a pair of sleep pants. He dug behind the headboard, then returned with the naked end of a plug. “We believe this was done purposefully.”

A boot hit the wall next to Theron’s head, and both men looked back at their Chiss lover. Zolah pushed herself upright, short, black hair an impressive array of tangles, and glared. “I did it. We’re taking the day off.” Theron opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it when Zolah lifted the other boot. With a light chuckle, Vector slid back into bed, moving over to lay next to his wife.

Theron considered sneaking out after they fell back to sleep, but Zolah’s sharp retort banished it from his mind. “You _will _rest today, Theron.” Though her voice was muffled by the pillow, it brokered no argument.

Sighing, Theron dropping his clothes and toiletries on the desk to join them under the blankets. He settled on the edge, and tried to keep his mind from cataloging all the things he needed to get done. Maybe if he just--

“Vector,” Zolah muttered. “Do me a favor and procure Theron’s datapad. I meant what I said.”


	2. Drinking Games (G - Fynta & Koth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koth and Fynta have had a long day for two very different reasons and somehow find themselves sharing a table at the cantina. Naturally, a competition ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the Tumblr prompt from Tishinada "Downtime with Koth"
> 
> Word Count: 716

Rated G:

* * *

“Looking a little wobbly there, Outlander.” Koth held his arm at eye level, bent at the elbow, with a shot glass balanced on his forearm. He stared over the brim into the blue eyes of the commander of their makeshift alliance.

Fynta Wolfe, the woman who would decide the fate of the galaxy, had been sneaking into the wilderness when Koth stumbled across her. He’d s suffered another spat with Hirani, and had chosen to make himself scarce for the night. Fynta had apparently felt the same stifling need to escape the compound. Somehow, they’d ended up in the tavern together with a table full of empty glasses.

“Bring it,” Fynta challenged. The damn woman didn’t even slur. That just wasn’t fair. She sat opposite of Koth in the same position, arm hovering, and a look of determination on her face. Koth’s muscles were starting to shake, and a drop of perspiration slipped from his temple. His only consolation was that Fynta was sweating too.

Koth had planned to count the seconds so that he knew exactly how long Fynta could withstand the torture of drunken party games, but had forgotten where he left off when a fight broke out at the bar. Cutting his eyes at the men, Koth realized they were a couple of Mandalorians. He’d learned that it was a common enough occurrence that no one seemed to notice anymore. The barkeep simply removed the glasses from the counter until they were done. Fynta didn’t even glance in their direction, but Koth saw her lips twitch.

“Your people,” Koth began in an attempt to distract the commander. “Have an interesting way of blowing off steam.”

Fynta’s smile grew. “Get enough tihaar in you, and I bet you’d join them.” She nodded in the direction of the scuffle, and damn it if her drink didn’t even waver.

Koth fingers burned, he flexed them carefully, then held his breath when the shot glass wobbled. “Careful,” Fynta taunted. “You’re starting to shake.”  
  
“I’m good,” Koth lied through grit teeth. He didn’t breath again until the glass steadied. When he met the commander’s smirk, a thought occurred to him. “Why are we doing this again?”

“It was your idea,” Fynta laughed. “I’d rather just drink until I can’t see straight.” She paused, brows drawn. “I think I’m off tomorrow.”  
  
Koth shook his head, then cursed and grabbed his drink with the other hand to keep it from spilling. “You’re never off, Theron and Lana will see to that.” Lifting his glass, Koth toasted his commanding officer. “To drinking with the little guy.”

Fynta copied the motion, but her expression turned serious. “You pulled me out of hell, Koth.” He nodded, and they both tipped their glasses back. Fynta smacked her lips, then looked around the almost empty pub with a soberness that astonished Koth. “Every man and woman here came willingly, to fight a tyrant against all odds. They left homes, careers, and families behind. There is no such thing as_ the little guy _in a rebellion.”

Koth accepted another round from the server and slid Fynta’s across the table. “Well said, Outlander.” He sipped this time, deciding that he should probably try his luck with Hirani soon. “When Lana said that you could save the galaxy, I thought maybe she just had a crush on you.” Fynta raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in those dark, blue depths. “Damned it all if you haven’t won me over, though. You’ve got my word that I’ll follow this thing through.”

Fynta emptied the contents of her drink in one gulp, then slapped the glass onto the table. “It’s good to know that I’ve got dependable people at my back.” She stood, not even the least bit shaky, and slapped his shoulder. “But, you’re right. I’m not off tomorrow. I’ll settle up with the barkeep during daylight hours, and you,” she poked him playfully, “should go make nice with your woman.”

Koth opened his mouth to argue, he didn’t remember telling Fynta about his fight with Hirani. Then again, Koth didn’t remember much about the last hour. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He got to his feet, and only the will to not be outdone kept them under him. “You get some rest, Outlander. I’ll see you in a few hours.”


	3. Safe Keeping (Theron Shan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron knows better than to let his guard down. He should be able to trust his fellow Alliance members, but he really, really, can't. Especially not after Fynta's had a few drinks while holding a grudge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 426
> 
> A/N: In the process of catching up on all the prompts, asks, and requests that I’m behind on, I stumbled across this one. So, a loooooong time ago, Salaciouscrumpet and I got into a conversation about Theron’s poor durability on mission. We joked that someone should wrap the poor man in bubble wrap for his own good. Then Kunoichi-ume and I ended up on the same topic, and she encouraged me to write this thing. All that to say, I blame those two talented ladies for sparking this drabble.

**Rated: G**

* * *

Theron swore, loud and long, shouting about lack of respect, and the revenge that he’d visit on them as soon as he broke free. Fynta ignored him, tucking her shoulder to urge the wriggling SIS agent forward.

“Oh, do stop with the theatrics, Agent,” Solish purred, using the Force to muzzle their unwilling prisoner. “I thought someone of your proclivity would appreciate the irony of being tied up.” Theron’s face reddened as he struggled against the invisible gag.

“He doesn’t look too happy,” Koth commented, grunting when the agent dug his heels in.

Fynta puffed, shoving harder. It was a good thing they’d all stayed up so late drinking, otherwise, Shan might have drawn a crowd. As it happened, the corridor was empty. “You heard the man,” Fynta countered when it sounded like Koth might lose his nerve. “This is for his own good. I’ve never known Theron to pass up an opportunity to injure himself on an op.”

The man in question made animal-like sounds as he thrashed against their hold. “Target in sight,” Solish announced, her girlish voice triumphant. It dawned on Fynta as they drew closer that the Cathar Sith probably could have just floated Theron there.

Solish bounded forward to open the door to one of the holding cells while Koth and Fynta tipped Theron in. He smacked the floor with a meaty thud, and Fynta winced. “Oops.”

“At least he’s wrapped well.” Solish leaned one arm against the doorframe and flashed a fanged grin. “Do you think we used enough?”

Theron glared at them from his position on the floor while they studied him in turn. Koth had snitched some protective wrappings from Hylo’s stash after hearing about Theron’s numerous injuries in the line of duty. They’d all gotten properly sloshed, then pounced on the unsuspecting SIS agent when his guard was down. Truthfully, Fynta thought Theron would see these things coming from by now.

“He’s good,” Fynta finally answered. Placing hands on knees, she leaned over Theron. “Now, be a good boy and stay here where it’s safe. We’ll let you know how the mission went.” She stepped out of the room and let the door slide shut to Theron’s muffled shouts.

“We really going to leave him in there?” Koth asked with a nervous edge to his voice.

Fynta grinned. As much as she’d like to get back at Theron for lying to her about Havoc Squad, she wasn’t that cruel. “Nah, let him stew for half an hour, then I’ll tell Zolah and Vector where to find him.”


	4. A Bloody Smile (Fynta Wolfe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fynta has graduated through the ranks of Sith and Jedi to fight Senya in preparation for the next time she faces Arcann. Though older, Senya has no intention of going easy on the Mandalorian, and plans to make her earn every inch of ground gained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 593  
Artwork by Dingoat on Tumblr

Rated: T

* * *

**Odessen**   
**Outdoor Training Ground**

Fynta’s head snapped back, blinding pain shot through her skull and clouded her vision. A second later, she felt water splash into an open mouth. Fynta blinked up at the darkening sky only to have her vision hampered by flashes of lightning. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signifying the approach of the wet season.

“You’re distracted,” Senya accused as she circled. “I could have killed you three times over.”

Fynta snarled and pushed to her feet. Her lips stung and she could no longer breath through her nose, but she’d be damned if the former Knight gleaned any indication of how bad that last punch had hurt. “I’m just wearing you down,” Fynta replied, dropping into a crouch. She was pleased by how little her words slurred.

“You should never sacrifice your own well being to gain the upper hand.” Senya moved so fast that Fynta barely scrambled out of the way. It gave her a rare opening.

Ducking the next blow, Fynta rammed her shoulder into Senya’s ribs, expecting her to tumble under the assault. The woman sighed when Fynta bounced off, barely keeping her feet. _Well shab _, she thought.

Putting as much scorn into her tone as she could manage through a nasally voice, Fynta pointed at the woman. “You cheated. You said no Force abilities.” Fynta winced and wished that she’d kept her mouth shut.

A bright red flash renewed the pounding in Fynta’s head, and her anger burned over when she realized that the chakaar had slapped her. Not only that, but backhanded her like some barely whelped akk pup. “Do you think Arcann will play fair?” Senya scowled, though she never raised her voice. Somehow, it just carried over the wind, which infuriated Fynta all the more.

Fynta dropped to the ground and kicked at Senya’s shins when the Knight advanced again. The older woman turned a complete somersault, landing nimbly behind Fynta. The blow came from nowhere, and Fynta found herself back in the mud at the same time that the sky opened. There was no gradual lead in, only the sudden pounding of heavy rain on her back.

Fynta scrambled back to her feet, forcing her eyes to focus when a bolt of lightning split the sky overhead. She chose that moment to lunge, fully expecting to be struck down. The breath left Fynta’s lunge when she connected with Senya’s waist, toppling them both. That stunned second was enough for the Knight to regain her advantage.

Suddenly, Fynta was drowning. She coughed up the liquid copper blocking her airway and tried to double into a dry heave. Senya’s knees blocked her path, forcing Fynta onto her back where she couldn’t clear her throat. “Fight it.” Senya’s voice crawled through Fynta’s mind. “Find the way out.”

In an act of desperation, Fynta brought her knee up, ramming it into Senya’s ribs until the woman leapt away. Fynta didn’t remember getting to her knees or burying her face in the mud. All she knew was that she could breathe, and everything hurt.

Sturdy hands wrapped around Fynta’s arms and hauled her upright. “The storm is getting pretty bad, sir,” one of her soldiers hedged. “And, you need a medic.”

Senya lifted a dark eyebrow in a challenge that Fynta didn’t dare shirk. Shaking the man’s hands off her, Fynta spat a glob of blood into the dirt. “Here that, Senya? He says the storm’s getting bad.” Bending her knees, Fynta shoved sodden bangs out of her face and offered her foe a bloody smile. “Let’s finish this.”


	5. Shattered (Balic Cormac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balic Cormac hasn't come to terms with Fynta's new outlook on life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt From Keirra (look her up on Ao3!): I challenge you to work these into a single fic: “you never came”, “i just need to know that something’s real”, “look me in the eyes and say that again.” with the same stipulations, any order, any characters, any pronouns.  
Word Count: 1009
> 
> A bit of a peek into Cormac's mindset about all the things happening in my fic, Heart on a Trigger.

**Rated: T**

* * *

**Zakuul**   
**Endless Swamp**   
**Havoc Camp**

Balic trudged into camp, soaking wet, covered in Force knew what, and exhausted. He and Abbeth had been on duty for the last six hours, taking up the slack while Jorgan visited Odessen. The first thing that Cormac noticed upon return was the parked shuttle. His heart picked up speed with mingled excitement and despair. 

“You alright, Cormac?” Abbeth asked, head tilted like Elara used to when she was reading someone’s vitals. It was fascinating how many traits the Kel Dor shared with Balic’s wife. He often wondered if there were universal medic gestures ingrained in them in school, or if it was a certain personality. 

“Looks like the boss is back,” Cormac answered, then slapped the other man’s shoulder. “You know how much I miss our furry leader.” 

Abbeth chuckled, helmet shaking from side to side, then turned towards the check in tent. In truth, Cormac wanted a report on how things were going back at the main base. He couldn’t stop thinking about Fynta’s wellbeing, or if things had gotten any better between Aric and his estranged wife. Balic hated seeing the Cathar in pain, but Fynta refused to see reason.

Cormac headed for the Command tent, pulling his helmet free to reveal indistinct voices flowing out the half open flap. No doubt the exiles had rushed Jorgan with a plethora of complaints about how hard his subordinates pushed them. For the most part, Cormac didn’t mind their guerrilla group, but there were some that would end up nothing more than cannon fodder if they didn't get their act straight. Those were the ones he pushed the hardest. 

Rubbing a hand over the top of his head to dispel the phantom helmet sensation, Cormac pushed into the crowded command tent to find not exiles, but heavily armored soldiers. He paused, blinked a couple of time, then his breath caught. “We’ll bug out from here, travel through the sewer lines that Koth marked, then advance on the target.”

Fynta stood at the holotable, a map of Zakuul pulled up, and her new squad fanned out around her. Jorgan leaned against a far table, arms crossed, and clearly not a part of the mission planning. Cormac waited, for her briefing to end, then scooted around the bulky figures to check on his commanding officer. “How’d it go?” 

The Cathar sighed, but refused to give voice to his thoughts. That said all that Cormac needed to know. When Fynta vacated the tent, Balic followed. “Oye, we need to talk.” She paused, slowly raised an eyebrow over her shoulder, then turned. Cormac knew that expression well enough to tuck tail and run, but he’d had enough of Fynta’s flippedness towards her family. He stood his ground, hands on hips, and glared down into the coldest blue eyes he’d ever seen. 

“You really want to do this here, soldier?” Fynta’s tone chilled Cormac all the way to his soul. Where had his best friend gone? The woman who would do anything for family, who wouldn’t stop until they were all happy and safe. Together. 

“You got a better place?” Cormac refused to be cowed by her glare, and his heart leapt a fraction when Fynta jerked her head towards the swamp. She hadn’t blown him off, maybe there was hope. 

They were well out of range of the camp when Fynta turned on him. Balic felt the brunt of her punch even through his armor, and staggered in shock. “What the hell, Fynta?” 

“Me?” The woman exclaimed, adding a couple of colorful curses that Cormac hadn’t heard in a long time. “What right do you have, calling me out in the middle of the camp?” 

“The same you have to pretend we don’t exist,” Cormac shot back. Six years of fear and frustration came to a head. “We are family, Fynta. _Aliit. _That used to mean something to you.” 

Fynta sighed, giving the impression of being burnt out. “It still does.” 

Folding his arms, Cormac pressed on. He was tired too, sick of watching his best friend trot around like their years together meant nothing. “You were out for _months _, and we had to hear about it from Jonas Balkar. Do you have any idea what that did to Jorgan?” 

Rage burned in Fynta’s eyes as she took a step closer, still capable of giving the impression of being just as big as Cormac. “I was in carbonite for five-fierfeking-_ years _. _You _never came.” The moment those words left her lips, everything in Fynta’s countenance deflated. “I’m sorry, Cormac. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

When Fynta reached for him, Balic took a step back. “So, that’s it?” He asked, surprised at the ice in his own voice. “That’s why you really agreed to supply the exiles, isn’t it?” He’d been a fool to believe that it was because Fynta trusted them to do a good job. It was to keep Havoc Squad out of the way. Out of her life. 

“What do you want me to say, Cormac?” Fynta snapped. “I’m doing the best I can with what I’m given.” 

Cormac closed the distance, resting his hands on Fynta’s shoulders and barely resisting the urge to shake sense into her. “I want you to tell me that you’re trying,” he all but pleaded. “I want to know that the next time you smile at me, that it’s not just a ploy.” Cormac tried to hold Fynta’s gaze, but she focused on everything except him. “Damn it, Fynta. I need to know that something’s real.” 

“Of course, it is,” Fynta snorted, finally meeting Balic’s glare with one of her own for a fraction of a second before staring past him. “I’m trying the only way that I know how.”  
  
“Then, look me in the eyes and say that again.” Fynta turned her head, and Balic cursed. So, that was it. He had an answer. Pulling away, Cormac started back for the camp, his heart shattered beyond repair. With every step, one thought resonated in his mind, _I left my wife and son—for this._


	6. A Simple "Hi" (Koth/Hirani)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hirani gives Koth reason to second guess their relationship status. Luckily, he's the one holding the blaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from total-metamorphosis on Tumblr: “the problem is you keep thinking i’m a good person. ”, “ have you ever seen the life leave someone’s eyes? ", and “ you really don’t remember. _____, you tried to kill me. ”. In one fic. GG.  
Word Count: 502
> 
> Koth and Hirani are my disaster couple. Every story needs one of those.

**Rated: T**

* * *

**Zakuul**   
**Old World**

“You really don’t remember.” Koth snorted as he looked down the scope. He focused on his partner, then moved past to take out a Skytrooper that dared operate in the same area as their rendezvous. “Hirani, you tried to kill me.”

The pink Twi’lek sat back in her chair, sipping a brew that would probably add to the hair on Koth’s chest, while she waited for their contact. “It was just a little knife,” Hirani protested. “Not like it would've actually killed you.”

“It was aimed at my kidney.” Koth took his frustration out on another droid. He loved it when they set up meetings at the skyport, it was always open season on Skytroopers. No one batted an eyelash when they self destructed unless it took out someone’s stall.

Koth wa enjoying himself until Hirani flashed the universal symbol to go fuck himself. He put the Twi’lek in his crosshairs and took a deep breath. One squeeze of the trigger, and all his problems would be over. Then again, he’d be stuck in a cold bed, and Koth was almost certain that he’d miss the infuriating woman after a while. Couple of weeks, minimum.

“You know,” Koth continued. “A simple ‘hi’ would have sufficed. I’m not hard to impress.”

Hirani set her drink down on the rickety table and stretched. This time, Koth admired the curves that action displayed. His estimate dropped to a week. “Are you ever going to stop complaining about that?” Koth opened his mouth to respond, but Hirani cut him off. “The problem is, you keep thinking I’m a good person. That I’m going to conform to someone else’s rules.” Hirani made a disgusted noise. “How dull do you think I am?”

“Being a good person doesn’t mean boring.” Koth scanned the open air cantina. “I’m fun.” When his scope panned back to Hirani, she wore an incredulous smirk. “Hey.” He scowled, letting the full weight of his indignation carry in his voice.

“Let me ask you,” Hirani began in a cool voice. Koth knew he wasn’t going to like the question. “Have you ever watched the life leave someone’s eyes?”

A chill ran the length of Koth’s spine, taking him back to the days when he’d fought Arcann’s war against people, instead of droids and helmeted Knights. “You know I have,” he whispered.

Hirani released a contented sigh. “There is no greater feeling that to leave an enemy on the floor at your feet. Back then, you and I were enemies.” Koth winced, but Hirani continued. “And, if the Alliance stops footing the bill, who knows, maybe we’ll be enemies again.”

Koth didn’t believe that. Sure, he and Hirani had their problems, but she’d stuck with him longer than any of her other lovers. That had to mean something.

Hirani sat up, pulling Koth’s attention back to the task at hand. He watched Hirani down her drink before turning a smile on the slim, Zakuulan native swaggering her way. “Show time, lover. Don’t let me down.”


	7. "I know the way!" (Verin/Keshal & young Tranx)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keshal and Tranx invite Verin to join them to visit a family graveyard, but Tranx has no idea where he's going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19: Day 2  
Prompt: “Just follow me, I know the area.”  
Genre: History  
Word Count: 236  
Characters: Verin Ejnar/Keshal Vaak & (young) Tranx Vaak  
Rated: G

**Geonosis  
Somewhere Off Course of Cadera Territory   
3635 BBY**

“Just follow me,” Tranx shouted as he wove between the dense rock formations of Geonosis. “I know the area.”

Verin had never been to the red planet before, but couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer to Keshal. “Does he actually know where we’re going?”

The woman shook her head, then thumbed over one shoulder. “The grave site is that way.”

Though Mandalorians weren’t prone to burying their dead in a singular location, Clan Cadera had spent years on the surface of this world. It only made sense to create a communal graveyard to honor their fallen. 

Verin waited for Keshal to correct the boy. When she didn’t, Verin realized that she was more nervous about visiting her husband’s resting place than he’d assumed. The reason only became apparent when she began chewing on her lip while Tranx darted about.

Slowing their walk, Verin pulled Keshal against his side and kissed her temple. “You’ve done him proud,” he commented with as casual an air as he could manage. “Tranx is a fine boy, a tribute to his father. You have nothing to worry about.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Keshal’s lips when she patted Verin’s chest plate. “Both of his fathers.”

Verin flashed his cheesiest grin, but his reply faltered when Tranx rushed back to meet them. The boy skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust that made Verin sneeze and Keshal curse. When the air cleared, Tranx glared at his boots with hands on hips. He gave a heavy sigh before admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m lost, which way is it?”


	8. Delirium (Kaeto/Kozen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober: Day 3 - Kozen tries to help Kaeto master her demons and almost falls prey to them himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Delirium  
Word Count: 329  
Characters: Kaeto Vaa/Darth Kozen (Hero of Tython/Emperor’s Wrath)

_ ** T** _ **_he Fury_  
Orbit around Odessen**

It had months, but Darth Kozen had finally convinced the stubborn Jedi woman to accept his aid. Kaeto panted on their bed, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the low light. His head ached, but the Sith had promised to endure so long as she could.

The nightmares had become worse since learning that Valkorion resided in the mind of the Outlander. Kozen hadn’t sensed such a primal fear since his days on Korriban. Kaeto moaned, lost in a delirium that Kozen wasn’t allowed to cure. She had to do this herself, to face those demons that screeched in the dark recesses of her mind that even he wasn’t allowed to touch. 

Images of blood, sticky against his skin, or was it Kaeto’s, flashed in Kozen’s mind. A battle cry and malicious laughter. Her fury was impressive even by Sith standards, and no one stood long against the dual, purple lightsabers. Rage, fear, and the desperate need for more ripped through Kozen’s emotions so quickly that he barely registered one before another replaced it. He felt sanity slipping away, and knew that it would take more than his strength alone to keep the monsters at bay. He had to stop this or be lost to it as well.

With a gasp, Kozen wrenched his consciousness out of Kaeto’s. Her ability to manipulate emotions amplified his own, sending him into a panic the moment he felt her mind close to him. It always happened that way, the sensation of loss after being so intimately connected to another mind.

Kaeto settled on the mattress, her chest rising and falling in the pattern of sleep now that Kozen was no longer digging through her memories. He took a shaky breath, then wiped his brow with a discarded shirt. If Kozen was going to help rid Kaeto of the Sith Emperor’s influence, he’d need to enlist the aid of another, more powerful Force user than himself.


	9. "Didn't Ask For This." (Notiac/Lana)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cute little peek into the private life of the Barsen'thor and her Sith lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I know you didn’t ask for this.”  
Genre: fluff  
Word Count: 394  
Characters: Notiac Carlo/Lana Beniko

**Odessen  
New Arrivals Receiving Bay**

It didn’t matter that Notiac Carlo had been born without eyes, she could see clearer than most. Waves of anxiety rippled through the Odessen base like a current, buffeting her through the Force. Though unpleasant, Notiac had learned years ago to push through the guilt of infidelity, thievery, and dishonesty to see into the heart of the person she focused on. It was a grueling task, but one she’d volunteered for when the Alliance had first approached her about joining.

A hand settled on Notiac’s shoulder, startling her from the brooding soul of a man who’d fake his own death to get out of a bad marriage. He was harmless enough, just a coward when it came to the woman he’d left behind. Personally, Notiac wondered at the lengths some would go to simply to avoid confrontation.

“Is it time already?” Notiac asked with a yawn. Her voice sounded hoarse, though she hadn’t been the one speaking. That job was left to Vector, while she sifted through the truth of their replies.

“Past time,” Lana answered with a hint of concern in her voice. 

Notiac breathed deeply the scent that was uniquely Lana, a bouquet of lavender and spice. Peace settled over Notiac as she withdrew from those around her and focused on a single point. 

“I know you didn’t ask for this,” Lana began, taking Notiac by the hand and pulling her away from the new arrivals. “If you need to take some time…” Her words trailed off with the knowledge of what answer they’d provoke.

“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” Notiac answered, looping her arm through Lana’s. The Sith had become her lighthouse, a beacon of safety in the stormy sea of emotions that permeated a war. “Perhaps we’ll go together.”

Lana patted Notiac’s hand, and she could sense the other woman’s smile. It warmed her from the inside. How strange to find such solace with a Sith. But then, Lana never lied–omitted, sure–but she didn’t mislead for her own gain. There was always the greater picture. Much like Notiac. 

“Yes,” Lana finally added, her voice distant, like she was already visiting warm beaches or cuddled in front of a crackling fire. “The two of us, as soon as the war is ended.”

“Then it’s set,” Notiac smiled, giving the Sith’s arm a light squeeze. “Once the war is ended.”


	10. Love at Blasterpoint (Solish/Andronikos/Kaliyo) Rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fictober & Whumptober: Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I couldn’t choose between the two events today. So you get: “I might just kiss you.” from Fictober19 and “GunBlasterpoint” from Whumptober19  
Genre: Flirty  
Word Count: 509  
Rated: T (for suggestive material)  
Characters: Solish/Andronikos/Kaliyo (I don’t know why I ship these three. They are a disaster of epic proportions and everyone lives in fear of what will become of their strange relationship.)  
A/N: These three are not in a healthy relationship. If that is a trigger for you, don’t read.

**Odessen  
Landing Bay G-13  
02:00**

Solish leaned against the doorway, one arm wrapped around her waist while her chin rested in the other. Andronikos hated the smug look of amusement in those golden eyes. She was enjoying this; of course she was. His crazy Sith loved a good confrontation, and he’d never been far from the ignition of an explosive temper himself. 

Andronikos watched Solish out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she’d step in or let him pull the trigger. It was a 50/50 bet. 

Kaliyo rolled her eyes, bumping the barrel of Andronikos’s blaster with the movement. His arm was steady, weapon resting against the Rattataki’s forehead. “Your call,” Andronikos finally admitted. He didn’t want to risk Solish’s wrath if he killed her pet, but there was only so much a man could take from a smart mouthed criminal who didn’t have the decency to kill her wounded.

“That guy was dead weight,” Kaliyo snapped in a way that sounded bored. “I did you a favor.”

“For favor cost me a contact in a system where those are few and far between right now,” Andronikos shot back. “Next time, don’t.”

Kaliyo huffed and knocked the barrel out of her face. Andronikos took a step forward to glare down at the woman. He had no compunction about hitting a female when she fought as dirty as the one in front of him. Before their argument could come to blows, Solish yawned, arching her back off the door frame in a way that distracted both combatants. 

Flexing her shoulders, Solish stalked towards them with a languid crace that one a Cathar could pull off. She took Andronikos’s blaster and tucked it back into his holster before patting his ass. “It’s sweet that you want to defend my disciples.” Andronikos snorted. That man had been more than a member of Solish’s cult, he’d had a bead on the Republic movements in the area. 

Solish tisked, then stood on her toes, lips stopping short of making contact with his. “I might just kiss you,” she purred. Andronikos knew she could sense the effect it had on him, but he offered a droll head tilt anyway.

Solish turned without making good on her promise to address Kaliyo. “You should clear it with one of us before dispatching a contact. They are in less supply than before. Some of them quite useful.”

“Fine,” Kaliyo snapped. “Sorry your contact got fried.”

Andronikos crossed his arms, pretending to be unaffected by the way Solish caressed his mind through the Force. “I think we should find a way to settle this matter…so that everyone is satisfied.”

There was no denying the implication in Solish’s voice, and Andronikos cursed himself for the way it excited him. What the hell, they were all bound for the Void anyway, and Kaliyo had that look in her eye that she might be up for the carnal negotiations. Adding a smirk to his shaky facade of aloofness, Andronikos pinned the Rattataki with a challenging glare. “Fine. Make it up to me.”


	11. Harrowing Escape (Hirani/Koth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things never go as planned when Hira'niafan is involved, and Koth should really know better by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fictober19 and Whumptober19  
Prompt: Fictober “Listen. No, really, listen.” Whumptober “Pinned Down.”  
Word Count: 336  
Characters: Hira’niafan/Koth Vortena

**Corellia  
Industrial District**

Koth had never been rough with a woman before. He just wasn’t that kind of a guy, but he’d also never run through the backed up sewers of a planet while being chased by giant rodents before, either. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Who’s the better navigator, here?” Hirani shot back as she ducked a duracrete foundation without warning Koth to do the same. He narrowly missed braining himself.

Something skittered to the left, and Koth heard the sound of metal scraping dirt. They were gaining, but he couldn’t get a bearing on where while Hirani wheezed like she was about to keel over. “Hey, slow down.”

Hirani glanced over her shoulder, pink lekku sliding free as she laughed. “Can’t keep up?”

“Listen,” Koth hissed, then put on a burst of speed to wrap his arms around Hirani from behind and pinned her to the wall. She cursed, so Koth slapped his hand over her mouth. “No, really, listen.” Her nostrils flared with anger, and he ignored it.

Steadily, the sounds grew until Hirani stopped breathing altogether. Chattering echoed off the walls, making it impossible to pinpoint where it was coming from. He still had Hirani sandwiched between his body and the wall, lost in the effort to figure out where the attack would originate. Then the hollow thumps of paws against dirt passed, and Koth let out a long breath.

Pain stabbed through Koth’s hand with such intensity that he swore and jerked back, wondering what hellish creature had taken him. “You deserved that,” Hirani snipped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Koth blinked at his girlfriend through the gloom. He really shouldn’t be surprised. “I was trying to help.”

“Well, next time, don’t.” Hirani flipped one lekku over her shoulder and sashayed back the way they’d come. Koth made a choking gesture after her, then sucked on his sore palm. He wouldn’t ask if Twi’lek carried any specific diseases that he should be vaccinated for. No man was that brave.


	12. Caretaker (Theron/Zolah)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolah is stubborn, and Theron knows just the cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober19: Day 19  
Prompt: “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”   
Word Count: 512  
Characters: Theron Shan/Zolah Holran

**Odessen  
Main Base  
Residential Wing**

Theron strode into the room with datapad in one hand and a cup of caf in the other. He missed the stuff that Vector made, but was forced to settle for mess hall swill while the man was on Alderaan. A flash of blue out of the corner of Theron’s eye made him pause inside the threshold of his room and take two steps back. “Zolah?”

The Chiss hissed from where she huddled beneath a blanket, one eye closed while the other focused on the screen of her datapad. “You…okay?” Theron clicked off his device and walked to the sofa when her datapad flopped into her lap.

Theron settled on the edge of the sofa to rub Zolah’s leg. “What’s wrong?” Blue fingertips pressed into her eyelids in that telltale way that he recognized. “Come on.”

Zolah only grumbled a little when Theron slid the device off her lap and set it on the table. “You need a massage and hot shower.” It was a little known fact that Zolah’s implants triggered migraines when overworked. She wouldn’t tell Theron the details, but hers did a lot more than they were meant to.

“I’ll be fine, Theron,” Zolah complained as he hauled her upright and pulled her shirt up. “You shouldn’t fuss.”

Theron noted that Zolah didn’t try to stop him, despite her assurances that she didn’t need his help. “While Vector is gone, it’s my job to take care of you.” He unclasped Zolah’s bra and tossed it to the side before starting on her trousers. “Don’t argue.”

Zolah sighed, then winced. Theron finished undressing his lover, wondering when doing so had become an act of care instead of for more carnal reasons. Pulling her into the fresher, he started the water, turning it higher than a human would find comfortable, before retrieving the still squinting Chiss to drag her in. “You get in, and I’ll find some pain tabs.”

Theron left the light off, cracking the door to let in just enough light for her to see by. It took him ten minutes to talk one of the physicians into released the medication without a legitimate reason. Theron supposed he could have said that he was fetching them for Fynta, but then she’d want to know why and Zolah was adamant that no one should know.

When he returned, the water was still on and steam rolled out of the shower. “Hey, got the goods,” Theron called. “Want them in there, or when you get out?”

The water switched off, and Zolah stepped out with a towel wrapped around her. “I’ll take them now, thanks.”

“Feeling any better?” Theron asked, offering her a cup of water to go with them. “Did the shower help?”

Zolah tipped her head back to down the tabs, then sighed. “Alright, yes, I admit it.” Theron grinned, waving a hand for her to continue with the _‘you were right’_ part, as she pulled on her pajamas.

With a pat to his chest, Zolah offered a weak smile while climbing into bed. “Goodnight, lover.”


	13. Drown Your Sorrows (Fynta Wolfe and Balic Cormac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fynta isn't impressed by Cormac's new comfort drink, but she's willing to try something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 983  
Characters: Fynta Wolfe & Balic Cormac 
> 
> This was inspired by a meme that dimigex sent me this morning and took on a life of its own. It’s set between the end to Heart on a Trigger and the beginning of Blood in the Breeze (which I have started, fear not). It’s also kind of proof that I’m not dead. Hope you enjoy!

**Odessen  
Alliance Base**

Few days drove Fynta to drink anymore. She’d accepted that her life was a steaming pile of bantha dung more than a year ago when they woke her up in a galaxy that no longer operated by rules she knew and told her to fix it. Today had been particularly hellish. She’d spent all morning in meetings where nothing was accomplished, lunched on cold rations while Kozen plotted out all the ways Fynta would have died if he'd been Arcann, then tossed into the cold mud by Vector during their sparring match. At least the Joiner had offered to help get the mud out of her hair.**  
**

When Fynta dragged herself home, it was to find a missed holo and a handwritten note that Aric would be out late doing field maneuvers with Aygo and the troops. That had spoiled her evening plans to blow off a little steam, leaving her edgy and frustrated. 

Sighing, Fynta showered the grime from her body and set off for the one person in the galaxy she was sure could brighten her mood. Balic Cormac, all-around fantastic guy and Fynta’s best friend, was still on medical leave. He’d found ways to be useful where welcome. Fynta checked all of the normal places first: the kitchen, creche, and even the mechanic’s bay. Everyone claimed that she’d just missed him. 

Balic’s room, not much but all that he’d accept, was the last place Fynta tried. Naturally, that's where she found him. The door slid open to reveal the smile she’d been craving without knowledge. “Hey, boss. What brings you here?”

“Lousy day,” Fynta responded without waiting for an invitation to enter. She flopped on the sofa with a huff. “Got anything to drink?”

“Sure, give me a second.” Cormac made noise in the corner of the room where he’d set up a small field kitchen while Fynta surveyed his living area. It was a one room deal, bed shoved against the wall, crates stacked neatly to resemble a computer desk and chair, tattered sofa, and his makeshift kitchen. Fynta supposed it was better than living in the barracks, but wished that he’d let her give him more. Their arguments circled so many times that she’d given up. The only way Cormac would accept larger quarters was if his family joined them. As if Fynta needed more motivation to bring Elara and their son home.

Fynta’s thoughts occupied her to the point of distraction until Cormac kicked her boot. “Damn, you are out of it. Want to talk?” He held out a mug of something steaming, and Fynta’s stomach drew tight with anticipation. The last hot beverage someone had handed her packed a hell of a punch. Granted, that someone had been Kaliyo.

“Just life,” Fynta replied, accepting the drink with a grateful nod. “I’m not cut out to run an army. You’d think they’d have figured it out by now.”

“I think you’re doing a good job,” Cormac answered after settling his bulk next to her. His still braced leg stuck out at an odd angle while he tried to get comfortable. “So do the rest, if the mess hall chat is any indication.”

Fynta huffed a laugh. “Poor shabuirs have no idea how much of this osik I make up on the fly.” Her mouth watered at the spicy aroma wafting from her drink. It was a strong blend that held the promise of making all of her problems vanish under a warm haze.

Touching the mug to her lips, Fynta took a long pull, then promptly spit it back into her cup. “What the hell?” She gasped, glaring into the amber liquid that tasted nothing like alcohol. It was muddy water at best, with a strange aftertaste that coated her tongue. 

Looking up, Fynta’s narrowed eyes zeroed in on Cormac’s grin. “What is this osik?”

“Tea,” Cormac answered, sipping daintily. “It’s better for you than booze.”

Fynta snorted and plopped her glass onto the crate hard enough to slop it over the edge. If Lana had been there, she’d have scolded Fynta for pouting, but that didn’t stop the commander from folding her arms and glaring at when she thought was her best friend. “You’ve changed. I don’t like this new you.” The old Cormac would have offered beer or better.

Hurt flashed behind Cormac’s eyes before humor replaced it. Fynta silently cursed those careless words. Her memories had only returned a few months ago, and the sting of rejection still weighed on Cormac. She saw it in the way the big man look at her when he thought no one noticed. 

Hoping to rekindle the light atmosphere, Fynta steered the conversation back to that thrice-damned drink. She lifted the mug to examine its contents. “Elara’s doing?”

Cormac offered a nervous chuckle, hand rubbing the back of his neck when Fynta looked up. “I made a few poor coping choices after you went missing.” She tried not to wince, but knew that she’d failed when he sighed. “Elara convinced me to drown my sorrows in another drink, and thus…” Cormac lifted the mug in salute, then took another sip.

With a resignation that Fynta had become far too familiar with, she cradled the mug between her hands. Chance was inevitable for everyone, even a little Mando who'd missed most of it. “Acquired taste, huh?” Cormac nodded, warm smile sliding back into place. Her nose wrinkled, but the edge found its way to her lips again. The second drink wasn’t as bad, maybe because she knew what to expect. It still wasn’t good, but the reflex to spit his brew out wasn’t as strong. 

Warmth wormed through Fynta’s gut much the same way it did with alcohol, and she leaned back with a sigh. “I guess it’s not so bad.” A yawn pulled at the back of her jaw. “What else have you got to do around here?”


	14. Double Date (Fynta/Jorgan & Torian/Noara)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fynta and Noara are stubborn, no one denies that, least of all their significant others. When the men get creative and con the women into trying something new, of course, everything goes sideways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written after Ume and I decided to purchase Aric and Torian's armor sets in game and run around doing heroics in matching outfits. It led to conversations about how they all came to wear the same armor, which led to theorizing about the amount of resistance Fynta and Noara would put up, and ended up as a drabble. Hope you all enjoy! Noara Starspark belongs to Kunoichi_Ume on Tumble (Keirra on Ao3) who writes a Torian/Jedi Knight pairing that is wonderful. You should definitely go read it if you haven't already.
> 
> Word Count: 1,081

**Rated: T**

* * *

Aric dropped behind the barricade with a sigh, icy eyes cutting towards Fynta. “Got any other brilliant ideas?” She ignored him, choosing to take her frustrations out on the prisoners assaulting the line.

When Torian invited Fynta and Aric along to test Noara’s new armor, the commander had suggested Balmorra. Prison riots had quieted into a brief moment of peace, and there were plenty of cliff faces, ravines, and environmental varieties to put the Jedi’s new beskar’gam through its paces. Not to mention, the prison planet hosted a plethora of creatures that she and Torian could hunt.

“I’m waiting,” Aric growled, letting his irritation bleed through more when human feces splattered the ground in front of their shelter. Who could have guessed that the inmates were waiting for a lull in galactic violence to make another ill-fated escape attempt?

“I’m thinking,” Fynta shot back. She glanced up to see Torian gauging distances between the half wall they hid behind and a desk closer to the action. Though his features were stony, Fynta saw concern in his eyes, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Go, we’ll cover you.”

Torian gave a sharp nod, then bolted while Fynta and Aric rose as one to draw the prisoners’ attention. They were advised not to kill the men, who were mostly armed with primitive weapons and homemade explosives. Which made getting them back under control more difficult. A wounded foe was still capable of killing, especially if they got their hands on a guard’s blaster.

When Torian’s weapon echoed from the right, Fynta gave a relieved sigh and dropped again. From that vantage, he’d be able to better protect Noara, who twirled and slashed in the midst of prisoners, while the rest of them were forced to hang back. Even with her superior fighting abilities, new beskar’gam, and the Force, Fynta knew that the Jedi’s Mandalorian lover would always worry when she got out of his line of sight.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there with Noara,” Aric muttered as he peeked over the barrier. A slight pull at the corner of his lips let Fynta know that her husband wasn’t all that mad about their situation. By now, this kind of thing had become par for the course. “Thought for sure you’d be on her heels when she leaped into the fray.”

Fynta knocked on her new chestplate before responding. “Might be if I weren’t in this osik.”

Aric’s brow lifted. “You lost the bet, and it’s not shit armor. The Republic outfits it’s soldiers a lot better than when you were in SpecForce.”

That had been their ongoing argument. When Fynta led Havoc, she’d secured everyone in her squad a suit of beskar’gam because the stuff the Republic offered was subpar for the forces they took down. Aric assured her that once it became clear that even common soldiers would face Force users on the battlefield, Malcom had put in an order for better quality materials to protect them from Knights and Sith alike. The face of war had changed while Fynta slept, and the galaxy adapted.

Given that Noara had backed herself into a corner on the topic of armor, it had been decided that Fynta should join her Jetii friend in trying something new. Noara had told Torian that she’d wear beskar as long as it looked like his, thinking that he’d never be able to find an exact duplicate. The younger woman’s expression when Torian showed up with a smug grin and chestplate just like his still Fynta chuckle. He’d had it fitted to Noara’s body, and she hadn’t been able to weasel her way out of accepting.

If the Jedi had told Fynta about the dare, she might have been able to warn Noara that Mand'alor kept a smith in her ranks. Which gave Torian access to all the supplies he needed. Not to mention, the young chief had made quite the profit off their haul from Darvannis.

Fynta hadn’t gotten to gloat long. After a solid week of badgering, she’d finally agreed to give Havoc’s gear a try if Aric could find some. She’d forgotten that Kanner was roughly the same size, and when Aric told her who it belonged to, the sadness in his gaze made it impossible for Fynta to refuse. So, here they sat in a firefight, during what was supposed to be a nice, relaxing outing with friends, in matching armor. Fynta figured that as far as double dates went, it certainly didn’t rank with the worst she’d experienced.

A resounding crash pulled Fynta’s attention away from her reverie. Noara stood in the middle of the room, no longer under siege, with both arms thrust before her. Fynta followed the trail of debris to find four men crumpled against the far wall. The others hesitated, eyeing the thin woman warily. Fynta took her chance to lay down a burst of fire at their feet. Someone signaled the mob to retreat, and they scrambled back into the prison in a flurry of curses and shoves.

Torian reached Noara first, rifle still pressed against his shoulder as he watched their targets through his sight. By the time Fynta and Aric joined them, Torian appeared satisfied with the validity of the prisoners’ flight.

Fynta paced a circle around Noara, brushing at scuffs and still smoking singe marks. “Looks like it held up pretty well.”

The Jedi frowned at each section that Fynta touched. “I wouldn’t have any of them without this armor. It slowed my reflexes.”

“But, it protected your vital organs,” Torian argued in a perpetually calm tone. “Speed can be regained. No so much a kidney or lung.”

Noara huffed and rolled her eyes, but Aric cut off any further argument. “If you ladies are done complaining,” he groused, looking directly at Fynta. She kept her back to him, but felt her husband’s eyes. Fynta wouldn’t give the smug Cathar the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. She stood by her assessment of the armor. It was still osik. “I’d like to have that dinner we were planning.”

“Food does sound good,” Noara added, perking up to the point that Fynta laughed. “And, I’d like to put on some regular clothes.”

Fynta and Torian’s gazes met over Noara’s shoulder, and he nodded. Fynta turned her grin on Noara, letting it broaden until the Jedi narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Fine, dinner in soft clothes, but first, you’re going to have to catch it.”


	15. Hell of a First (Hirani/Koth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koth considered himself an experienced kisser, but he'd never had a first like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Tumblr Prompt for "Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys." I've always wondered where these two started...now I know. ;)  
Words: 790  
Characters: Hirani/Koth  
Timeline: Sometime before they defrosted Fynta.   
Rated: T

“Great,” Koth snapped as he rounded a corner, hot on Hirani’s head tails. “Any other brilliant ideas?” It astounded him how often he asked the woman that. Even more when Koth remembered that he’d volunteered for this mission. 

Hirani skidded to a halt and Koth slammed into her. The Twi’lek cursed, shoving him back the way they’d come. “No good, that exit’s blocked.”

“You do realize that they never would have seen us if you hadn’t shot the snitch, right?” Koth snagged the back of Hirani’s jacket and tugged her into an alcove when Knights crossed the alley in their path. 

They huddled with backs against the wall and chests heaving from the unexpected flight. “He deserved it,” Hirani growled under her breath. When Koth held his hands up for an explanation, she shook her head. “Forget it. You weren’t there.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I was standing guard at the door.” Koth flicked at the lekku attempting to wrap itself around his wrist. He'd never get used to that. It was unsettling yet alluring, and Koth couldn't make the two fit into his limited understanding of the galaxy. “Next time, I’ll do the negotiating.”

Hirani rolled green eyes but said nothing. Koth was used to her moods, for all that was possible, but Hirani had never lost it like that before. Her jaw was tight, lekku vibrating with fury when he took the time to look at her. Something bad had happened in that store. “What did he do?”

“Like you care?” Hirani snapped. Before Koth could defend his motives, she leaned out of the alcove to check for more opposition. “It looks clear. We should make a break for it.”

Koth followed, walking backward to keep an eye on their flank while Hirani took point. He tried to act casual, grateful that people in the Old World didn't pay attention to what went on around them. Two people dodging authorities wasn’t anything special, but he’d rather not draw attention. 

“I see the shuttle landing ahea--shit.” Koth glanced behind him to see two Knights talking to a local at the entrance to their lift. His mind registered the threat and began looking for an escape in a matter of seconds, but it felt like longer. They were trapped in a long corridor with only a twist in the ramp for cover. If they broke for it now, the abrupt movement was sure to be noticed. 

Hirani turned, and for a moment, their eyes met. Koth saw the answer in her bright, green eyes and hoped that he could still walk when it was over. In one, swift movement, Koth shucked his jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and shoved Hirani into the corner of the bend. She protested until his lips covered hers, fingers wrapped gently around her lekku to pull them out of sight. If Koth was lucky, his body would shield her pink skin from prying eyes. 

The sound of reinforced boots started down the ramp, stepping in time with his pounding heart. Hirani stopped fighting the instant she heard them, then her lips moved and Koth forgot about the imminent threat of discovery. Eyes that had been shut tight against the pain he knew she’d inflict on him popped open when he realized that she was kissing him back. Not with fake, closed-mouthed pecks, but with the full weight of those seductive lips. Koth’s knees almost gave when her tongue pressed for entrance. He shouldn’t have given in, but Hirani was a fine specimen of feminine wiles and Koth had been a bachelor for far too long.

Someone chuckled behind Koth, reminding him of the dire situation that the woman wrapped in his arms had tumbled them into. He held his breath, attention focused where it belonged instead of the fantasy forming in his mind. One that involved public indecency and fewer witnesses. 

The boots moved on, and Koth finally released the captive air from his lungs. Hirani wore a satisfied smirk when he broke away to make sure their path was clear. “I knew you had the hots for me.”

Koth blustered, trying to withdraw but finding her lekku wrapped around his wrists in a durasteel like grip. “I just saved our lives, how about a little gratitude.” He shook his arms, then raised both brows at Hirani. "Do you mind?"

Hirani’s fingers tangled in the front of Koth’s shirt as she hauled him against her body for another scorching kiss. He sucked in a strangled gasp when she shoved him away, flipping the errant tendrils over her shoulder. “Keep that up, and I just might.”

“Might what?” Koth asked, lips numb and tongue feeling two sizes larger than it should.

"Show you some gratitude." Laughing, Hirani tossed the jacket into Koth's face and stalked up the ramp with a lot of swing in her hips. She paused to wink over one shoulder. "Try to keep up.”

Koth pulled his jacket on while he jogged after Hirani. He wasn’t going to turn down her offer, though it was the smartest choice. Curiosity was a terrible motivator. Decision made and future justifications chosen, Koth called after her. “I’m nobody’s co-pilot, you hear?” He had some dignity, after all.


	16. Sleep Well (Balic/Elara)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormac isn't ready to leave his family behind, but duty calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aimed for angst on this one, but these two are so stinking fluffy that it bleeds into everything that they do. Also, have some baby Tayl! This was a prompt from a Tumblr list.
> 
> Rated: G  
Characters: Cormac/Elara  
Word Count: 616  
Timeline: During Fynta’s Carbonite Nap  
Prompt: Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Do Wn And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes

Cormac took a deep breath, savoring the moment of silent peace that would end in the morning. He’d made it home for Tayl’s first birthday and owned Jorgan a bottle of that Corellian whiskey he loved so much for fudging the paperwork to get them through debriefs in record time. After losing Fynta, the grumpy Cathar was hell-bent on making sure that Balic missed as little of his son’s life as possible. It was the only good thing to come from their situation.

Tayl slept peacefully, angular features illuminated by the glow of his mobile. Xaban had helped Cormac build it from spare bits they found lying around the Thunderclap. It was nice having another person to tinker with. Helping to ease the sting of Vik’s desertion. Balic missed the Weequay bastard and tried to understand why he’d done it. 

Movement dragged Cormac from his nostalgia and he smiled when Tayl rolled onto his back, small arms flung above his head. Kids slept in the weirdest positions, but so long as his son was content, Cormac wouldn’t disturb him. A small coo from the crib marked the moment when Tayl settled back into sleep. 

A hand touched Balic’s arm. His eyes drifted shut, focusing on that single point of contact. Elara didn’t ask why he was out of bed, she didn’t have to. Cormac’s arms opened to admit his wife, then folded around her shoulders so that he could rock them side to side. Elara’s back pressed against Balic’s chest and stomach, creating a perfect moment of serenity. 

They stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, enjoying being in each other’s arms and the security of Tayl sleeping within reach. Finally, Elara yawned. “Come to bed.”

Cormac let Elara turn in his arms to face him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off their son. Her cool hand rested on his cheek. “You can’t report to the Thunderclap dead on your feet.” When Cormac didn’t respond, Elara took a defiant breath. “Shall I recite the health hazards of rushing into combat fatigued? Because I will.”

Before Elara could get the first warning out, Cormac chuckled and put a finger over her lips. “You win, doll. Lead the way.”

Grey eyes filled with sadness despite Elara’s bright smile. They both knew that it would be months before Balic saw them in person again. She didn’t want to pull him away any more than he wanted to leave, but would do her duty. His health was forefront in her mind, always.

Elara added her other hand to Cormac’s face, tilting it down to gain his full attention. “I love you.” It felt like a goodbye; Balic hated those. He didn’t want to start the grieving process ahead of schedule so answered the only way he knew how.

One of Cormac’s hands was large enough to cradle the back of Elara’s head. He kissed her forehead, free hand sliding down her spine to urge his wife onto her toes so that he could kiss the only woman to hold his heart. It was an awkward angle given that she barely reached his chest, but Balic would take the shoulder strain if it meant feeling her warm lips against his. 

Elara’s hand settled on the one caressing her cheek and their fingers intertwined. “It’s not quite midnight,” she whispered into Cormac’s mouth. He pulled back, catching the new shine in her eyes and smiled. Elara bit her bottom lip and looked towards their room. “Perhaps some relaxation exercises first?”

Cormac’s arm stretched between them as Elara pulled him down the hall. With one last look at his son, Balic surrendered with a sad laugh. “I’m all yours, doll.”


	17. Final Layover (Theron/Zolah)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron leaves everything behind to join Lana and her group on a search for their Outlander. Getting there is half the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request from Dimigex for the Kiss Prompts List.  
“I want 70 with Theron and Zolah.” Starting With A Kiss Meant To Be Gentle, Ending Up In Passion.
> 
> Word Count: 708

**The Outer Rim  
Twenty-eight hours Since Invitation to Join the Alliance**

Everything hurt. Things that he could have gone his entire life without knowing existed ached. In hindsight, he’d brought the pain on himself. Smuggling a human off Coruscant to meet Imperial spies in a cargo freighter was bound to come with a certain amount of discomfort. Theron made a mental note to charter a luxury yacht next time he ran out on his government, a position he found himself in a lot more than he liked.

Knuckling his back, Theron checked his wrist chrono to see how much longer he’d have to wait in the seedy cantina on a backwater world before moving on to the next objective. Zolah was nothing if not meticulous. This was the second stop in a long list of layovers on his journey to join the rebellion.

Theron reached for his watered down beer only to realize that it wasn’t there. Every alarm rang that he’d been compromised. Theron started to scoot from the seat when the beer plunked onto the table in front of him from nothing. It took half a breath to realize what had happened. “Clever.”

“I thought so.” The sultry, heavily accented voice preceded a shimmer that resolved into Zolah Holran, the woman Theron had crossed a galaxy to meet. The Chiss agent he’d spent a large part of his career trying the thwart, then too short a time falling for.

The last time they’d been physically in the same space, Theron had seen stars. Then, he’d blown the who thing by letting her real name slip. Zolah had run, leaving him to question every life choice that had led him into her arms. He hoped to avoid a repeat. This time, his work relationship with Zolah and her husband would remain professional. He could do this.

Theron picked up the drink and took a gulp just to prove to Zolah that she couldn’t rattle him, maybe more to himself. “Does this mean that I don’t have to make the last two stops?”

“Oh no,” Zolah grinned. “We’ll just be making them together.”

Lifting his boot, Theron tapped the booth next to Zolah, then did the same with his hand on his side. Nothing. “Where is Vector?”

Zolah slid from the booth to join Theron with a seductive sigh. “He sends his regards but was called away on other business. It’s just the two of us now.” Her red eyes drew Theron in, making it impossible to resist the urge to run his knuckles down the soft, blue contours of her cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” Zolah breathed, leaning forward but stopping short of a kiss. “It was a mistake to part the way we did. One of the few things in my life that I have truly regretted.”

Theron’s chest squeezed uncomfortably at those whispered words. He wanted to reply in kind, but that had never been his strength. Theron closed the distance between them and pressed a tender, almost chaste kiss to Zolah’s perfect lips. She responded with equal pressure, both lost in that unsure place between desire and fear.

The space between them shrank to nothing until Zolah was nearly sitting in Theron’s lap. He sucked in a breath. “Am I forgiven?” He’d promised through Vector to never use her name again, not without express permission.

“Shut Up.” Zolah crushed their mouths together, lips insistent instead of sweet, and fingers tangled in his hair.

Theron groaned, tipping his head back so that Zolah could reach his pulse point. “Tell me we aren’t taking public transportation.” He didn’t need a bed, just some privacy. The stolen glances from other patrons forced reality back into the main focus. “We’re drawing a crowd.”

Zolah sat back with a laugh. The real kind that Theron knew only a few people in the galaxy had been gifted with. Straightening her shirt and fluffing her hair, Zolah climbed off of Theron to stand by the booth. “Agent Shan,” she tisked. “As if I would ever travel public.”

“Thank the Force.” Theron was out of the booth and tossing credits onto the table before he could second guess himself. He’d waited too long for this reunion, and nothing was going to get in the way this time, including his mouth. Unless she asked nicely.


	18. Clashing Interests (Aleksei Dorne/Miqo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of an agent belongs to everyone but the agent regardless of Republic or Imperial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from Dimigex "“We can never be together” kiss with Aleksei. I want to know more about him too, he's one of my favorite minor characters lol"
> 
> Word Count: 738
> 
> This is during a timeline that I haven't introduced yet because I'm still writing it. I'm about five chapters into Blood in the Breeze (the next installment to the Battlefield series) but I couldn't help myself. So enjoy the spoilers!

Aleksei could set his watch by these visits. He leaned forward to scratch his ankle where the band rubbed against it, amused more than annoyed by the old technology. He’d been chipped too, stabbed multiple times so that he couldn’t be sure where the device hid. 

Being a reliable SIS agent didn’t save Aleksei from suspicion when Elara vanished with the kids. He had no idea where his sister was, but hoped she was finally happy. No one deserved their happy ending more than Elara Dorne. She’d given up everything to do the right thing, then turned around years later only to be faced with the same choice.

The knock on the door pulled Aleksei from his musing, and he rose to answer. Miqo entered with a stern frown and datapad in hand. “Afternoon, Agent Dorne.”

Aleksei hadn’t been around many aliens even during his time with Imperial Intelligence. He’d thought the Republic’s infatuation with non or near-humans perverse. Until meeting Miqo. She held a spark that her green skin couldn’t dull, making him feel alive whenever she was around. “As well as can be expected.” He paused to offer a dashing smile. “Improving by the minute.”

The Mirialan glanced up, blue eyes sparkling with laughter even though her lips remained pressed together. “It won’t work again,” she warned, folding her arms and hugging the datapad like a life raft. “I know all of your tricks now.”

“Not all.” Miqo’s brows pulled into a sharp angle and Aleksei knew he’d said the wrong thing. Holding his hands up, he changed the subject. “What is on the interrogation agenda today?”

Miqo huffed as she tapped on the screen, reverting to professionalism now that Aleksei had taken a step back. “This isn’t an interrogation, and you know that.” Her accent was a strange mixture of Imperial and Republic, making it unidentifiable after years of undercover work. 

Aleksei met the Mirialan years back when he’d first defected. She’d been a stellar field agent until an explosion rendered her deaf. Though implants gave it back, she was deemed a liability and relegated to logistics. Aleksei always enjoyed the woman’s company, but Balkar had been the one to point out that there might be more. _Take what you can get, kid. Our kind doesn’t get second chances_. Those words echoed in Aleksei’s mind when he opened the door for his first check-in to find the Miqo waiting on the other side.

“You are the only one who makes this punishment bearable.” Aleksei hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, lost to his thoughts. That didn’t make them any less true. 

Alek expected repercussions for Elara’s disappearance. Jace Malcom had gone insane, tearing through his own office before setting his sights on the SIS and the source for his trouble. Only Balkar’s pull had kept the commander from deporting Aleksei back to the Empire trussed up and topped with a bow.

A shy smile pulled at the corner of Miqo’s lips, softening the sharp contours of her face. “It’s not fair when you turn that Imperial charm on me.” Aleksei grinned and stepped closer, arms snaking around her waist. It was a risk, he never knew if she’d submit to his wishes or shove him away. 

Their kiss was long and sweet, nothing like the women he’d run with during his stay on Nar Shaddaa. When Miqo was in his arms, Aleksei saw visions of family and heard the patter of little feet instead of narcotics and pulsing music. 

Miqo pulled back, head shaking and palms flat against Aleksei’s chest. He let her put space between them, already regretting the loss of her warmth. “You know this won’t work.” Miqo stepped out of the security of his arms, retrieving her stylus from behind her hair and tapping the screen. “You’re my responsibility. We can never be together, it would ruin both our careers.”

Aleksei sank onto the sofa with a sigh while Miqo curled into Elara’s favorite chair. “Of course. Ask your questions.”

Miqo’s pale eyes locked on her screen, tone curt while she read through the interview and determined that Aleksei had not breached the terms of his house arrest. All the while he watched her, seeing the same pain in her posture that he felt at being denied the luxury of choice. Two agents falling in love was bad enough, but individuals in their position…Miqo was right, it was impossible.


	19. Mistakes Were Made (Lana/Notiac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Barson'thor is above reproach, but even the best make stupid mistakes sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: "I made a mistake" from Tish  
Word Count: 552

**Odessen  
** **Residential Wing**

Lana stretched and checked the time. It wasn’t uncommon for a mission to run longer than expected, but Notiac usually alerted her to the delay. Not just as a courtesy, but also because Alliance commanded needed to know where and how their agents were fairing.

“She’s only an hour late,” Lana admonished, wondering if the fretting was a sign that she’d become clingy. Notiac probably knew that it was past Lana’s shift and had opted to let her rest. She’d probably alerted command.

Lana decided to trust the famed Jedi and get on with the process of preparing for bed. Another half an hour passed before she relented to the need to check on her partner. It wasn’t mistrust, just assuring herself that Notiac was well. She’d have done it for anyone. She had done it for several.

Closing her eyes, Lana reached for her connection with Notiac through the Force and found it closer than expected. She huffed at herself, ready to announce to the room what a ninny she’d been when a stab of pain took her breath. Lana pulled back from to realize that it wasn’t hers and rushed to the door as Notiac reached for the panel. The Jedi would have fallen had Lana’s arms not been already extended.

“What happened?” Lana’s tone was shar[er than intended, tight with emotions of fury that she barely held in check. “Why aren’t you in the medbay?”

“They aren’t fatal,” Notiac gasped, fingers curling in Lana’s nightshirt. “Only painful That medication should be saved for severe injuries.”

Lana called on the Force to augment her strength, lifting the taller woman and started for their bedroom. “Which leads me back to–what happened?”

Notiac hissed when Lana deposited her on the mattress. “I made a mistake.”

“That’s not like you,” Lana commented as she began to unwind the layers of robes that Jedi Masters insisted on wearing. Judging by the way Notac favored her left side, Lana assumed the problem lay in that area. “Are you going to make me guess?”

Notiac angled to the right so that Lana could remove the final layer, leaving the Jedi in the loose undergarments that she preferred and bone mask. An angry, red welt peeked from beneath the shirt. “This is a lightsaber burn.” Lana gave her lover an incredulous glare that she knew the woman would interpret even without the benefit of eyes.

“I thought you went to discuss the rebels on Tatooine joining the Alliance?” Few on that planet could wield a lightsaber, much less scorch the famed Barsen'thor.

Notiac gave a weak laugh. “The Knights of Zakuul weren’t interested in peace talks.”

Lana left Notiac to retrieve the burn ointment, trying to parse out why Knights would be on that dust ball. It wasn’t worth any strategic value so far as she could see. It was something to run past Theron and Zolah.

When Lana returned, Notiac had placed her mask on the bedside table, gifting Lana with the rare sight of her eyeless and enchanting face. “From now on,” Lana huffed, hiding her affection beneath stern discipline. “Wear armor when you leave the base, instead of those blasted robes.”

“That,” Notiac hissed when Lana applied the salve without warning, then let out a long breath. “That was my mistake.”


	20. Rushing Destiny (Young Tranx/Zula)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tranx has a crush but is moving too slow for Zula's liking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Request by Dimigex for Awkward Teen Kiss between Tranx and Zula.
> 
> Word Count: 1053

**Alderaan**   
**Northern Mountain Range**   
**Youth Manka Hunt**

“How about I go high, and you go low?” It wasn’t that Tranx wanted to climb in new beskar’gam, but that Zula didn’t think he could.

The girl turned with one, bright eyebrow raised, warning Tranx that she’d make him regret opening his mouth. Small hands planted on narrow hips. “You think that you’re a better spotter than me?” 

_Of course not_, Tranx thought. Someone behind him snickered, giving life to Tranx's insecurity. Whoever it was didn't carry it further. No one messed with Zula when she was in a mood. The girl might be all arms and skinny legs, but they turned boneless and hard to grab in a fight. 

Tranx stood his ground instead of letting Zula sense his fear. He hadn’t realized until she stomped up to him how much height he'd gained during his last growth spurt. The girl who used to look Tranx in the eye barely reached his chin now. That didn’t make her any less terrifying.

“I’ve got more reach.” It was the first excuse that popped into Tranx's head. Wrong again, judging by Zula’s expression. He sighed and wondered when she’d become so hard to talk to. 

Verin suggested that Tranx did stupid things when Zula was around to gain her attention. That was stupid, of course. They’d been friends for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t as if Tranx had to compete for conversation, most of the boys were too scared to go near her anyway. Verin was full of it.

If that was true, why did Tranx’s chest feel so tight?

“Fine.” Tranx threw his arms up, shoving the unhelpful questions aside. If he'd learn anything from Verin, it was that bowing to the woman's wishes made the experience better for everyone. “You take it.”

As Tranx started to join the others, Zula called out. “I think you’re right.” He froze, turning slowly to find a wide grin. “You have the reach. Go on, up you go.”

In an instant, Tranx went from lamenting his unrequited crush to wanting to strangle the girl with his bare hands. Is that what love was? A lifetime of that sounded exhausting. Why did adults do it? 

Tranx folded his arms. “Would you make up your mind, woman?” Zula was fourteen, after all, an adult in her own right. He’d heard Verin say it to his mother more than once and she always laughed. 

Zula’s smirk grew, but it didn't look good-natured. “I have. I’ll watch your backside while the others head into the valley.”

Tranx looked to the boys around him for help, but they were already retreating down the hill. “Cowards,” he called after them. Laughter wafted back to him on the wind. When Tranx faced Zula again, she tapped her wrist. He sighed and started up the tree. 

It took longer than Tranx would have liked to reach the top, but he didn’t fall or make a fool of himself. Knowing that Zula was watching, judging, made him more vigilant. She’d never be interesting in a bumbling idiot for a--Tranx stopped that thought dead. Sure, his parents approved of a match with Zula, but that didn’t mean that he was seriously considering...it. Right?

“See anything?” Zula called from ground level. Tranx was up a tree with beskar jamming into his hip. He’d need to get that fixed. 

“Southeast by two klicks.” Tranx shifted, straining to hear Zula relay the coordinates so that he could start his decent.

Zula knocked on the trunk. “They’ve got the trail. Let’s go.”

Tranx said a small prayer of thanks and started down. He only slipped once, but didn't think that Zula had seen thought the foliage. Once on the ground, Tranx swung the rifle off his back and gestured for Zula to lead the way. Mostly so that she didn’t see him limp out the cramp in his hip.

They’d almost overtaken their companions when Zula stopped. Tranx carried on a few steps before backtracking. “What’s wrong?”

“You,” Zula snapped. Tranx blinked, open and closed his mouth a few times, then settled for bewildered silence.

Zula huffed. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get those di’kuts to leave us alone?”

Tranx continued to blink.

Zula rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll find some other boy to be interested in. One who knows how to speak.” She stomped a few paces, leaving Tranx rooted to the spot while his brain tried to process what was happening. Suddenly, she rounded on him, finger jabbing at the air.

“Buir told me to be patient,” Zula continued. “To let you pick your moment but it’s taking too damn long. Are you interested or not?”

“In what?” Tranx only wanted clarification but had once against chosen the wrong words.

Zula’s pale face turned an unnerving shade of red before she turned and stormed through the underbrush without a word. Finally, Tranx caught up with the conversation. “Fierfek.”

Tranx ran, crashing through the vegetation with enough noise to earn a smack from his mother if she’d been around. He caught Zula at the edge of the treeline, but everything Tranx planned to say fled the moment the sun glinted off damp tracks on her cheeks.

“Um.” Zula’s lips pressed into a tight line and Tranx shook himself. “Look, I’m not very good at this.” She let out a hollow laugh that filled him with emotions he couldn't identify. “Can I try again? Tell me what to do.”

Zula looked down. “You could kiss me if you wanted.”

Tranx had never kissed anyone. He licked his lips. How hard could it be? Leaning forward, Tranx waited for Zula to look up or be forced to settle for sharing his first with the bridge of her nose. Eventually, he cleared his throat. Zula reacted to the noise, their lips touching when her chin lifted. 

It wasn’t a kiss so much as two mouths bumping into each other, but it meant something. Tranx had laid his feelings bare for Zula to do with what she would, even if it hadn't been the way he'd planned. She had done the same, showing him a moment of vulnerability. 

They were something now, more than friends. There was plenty of time with work on their technique. Tranx hoped to get back to that soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two were so much fun to write. Thank you so much for requesting them.


	21. Mandatory R&R (Theron/Zolah/Vector)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron had been warned that this would happen, they both had...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For OC Kiss Week 2020  
prompt: rest  
word count: 764

Theron woke to a foul taste in his mouth. It was evidence of his poor lifestyle choices that he could identify the exact brand of narcotic used to incapacitate him. His head flopped to one side, suspicions confirmed at the sight of a familiar and naked, blue back. He’d been warned that this would happen, they both had.

“We see you are awake.” Vector stood at the door, two mugs of what Theron hoped was caf in his hands and fresh clothing draped over one arm. He looked like a butler coming to rouse his obstinate wards from bed after a long night of partying. 

Pushing himself up on wobbly arms, Theron blew air through his lips. “You drugged us.” It wasn't a question. Theron smacked his lips and frowned. "Where'd you get--"

Vector tisked, a strange clicking that only a killik joiner could manage. “You two left me with no choice.”

Theron chuckled, letting his question die and unable to find it within himself to be annoyed. Vector had given him and Zolah three weeks to request a leave of absence or he would take matters into his own hands. Both spies had called his bluff. Lesson learned. 

Vector leaned down to offer Theron a mug and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “It was a small dose, only enough to ensure we could move you aboard the ship without resistance. You’ve been asleep no more than an hour.”

Theron grinned, impressed that Vector had not only managed to drug two of their government’s best spies, but then move them, launch the ship, and have everything prepared to stave off a hangover when they woke. "An hour, that's all?" It really was too easy to underestimate the sedate man.

“What about her?” Theron asked with a nod towards Zolah's still unconscious form while sipping his caf. It was perfect, just the way he liked it. Of course, it was.

“We had to give her a larger dose,” Vector admitted, moving to his wife’s side and waving the caf beneath her nose. Theron felt offended that he was easier to incapacitate that a tiny woman like Zolah. Then again, her implants were more sophisticated, leading to more blood scrubbers. He'd judge it as a score for the Empire's technical superiority than his failing. That took the bitter taste of inadequacy from his mouth.

Zolah snorted, coming awake all at once instead of gradually as Theron had. She sat up, blanket falling from her naked body and snatched the mug from Vector. Theron’s brows rose as she proceeded to down half the cup's contents, heedless of the heat.

When Zolah lowered the cup with a shiver, her red eyes settled on Vector in that silent way the two had of communicating that made Theron feel like the third wheel. “Damn you,” she growled, but the corners of her lips twitched up. “I should never have shown you that trick.”

“You knew that we would only use it in times of great need,” Vector replied with a wave of his hand. Zolah laughed. That sounded like a story that Theron needed to know more about. 

“Well,” Zolah purred, bending her knees to prop thin forearms on them. “You’ve taken us hostage, whatever will become of us?”

Vector’s black eyes slid first over his wife, then traveled conspiratorially over the rumpled sheets to where Theron’s bare leg peeked from beneath the sheet. “We have a few ideas.” He leaned forward to kiss Zolah with a lot more passion than he’d offered Theron. Of course, Theron hadn’t had caf yet.

Any doubts that might have started forming about Theron’s invitation to join vanished when Vector’s hand slid beneath the blanket to rest on his thigh. When the joiner pulled back, it was with a satisfied smirk. “We’ve prepared a day of rest. You’ll both be released to your duties after a solar rotation. Wait here while we fetch a proper meal from the galley.” 

Pulling out of Zolah's grasp, Vector started for the kitchenette. Not before shucking his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair first. There was a promise in that action. After he'd seen to their health, Vector intended to ensure they wouldn't try to sneak off the ship. Theron looked forward to that.

Theron leaned back in the bed, fingers meshed behind his head as Zolah curled against him. “Best hostage situation I’ve ever woken up to.”

Zolah hummed in response, and he felt her cheek move against his chest. “Yes. We should return the favor sometime. I’ll bring the handcuffs.”


End file.
